


Glow Stars

by KuroRiya



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also I love the fandom's obsession with the glow stars, Alternate Universe - College/University, And these nerds are fun, Halloween, I'm feeling festive, It's nsfw at the end, Just so everyone knows, M/M, they make my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuroRiya/pseuds/KuroRiya
Summary: Halloween had always been a favorite holiday of Keith's. That would surprise most people, if he admitted to it, but that was exactly the point. The reason he liked the holiday was that it gave him a chance to act, well, not himself.





	

Halloween had always been a favorite holiday of Keith's. That would surprise most people, if he admitted to it, but that was exactly the point. The reason he liked the holiday was that it gave him a chance to act, well, not himself. (As well as being one of the very few holidays that didn't seem to require a family.)

Typically, he would be described as a studious person; He put his school and work first, and he'd never been the sort to indulge in much goofing off. He didn't go to parties outside of the one costume party a year, he didn't spend as much time with his limited set of friends as other people, he didn't even really have many hobbies to speak of.

But, during Halloween, he could wear a mask. It was amazing what a cheap piece of plastic or latex could do. He'd traversed entire fraternities, where he'd normally receive sneers and slurs, with naught a problem. People who outright disliked him would ask him to join in the dancing and the drinking.

He'd had his costume ready for what seemed like too long, hanging up in the far corner of his closet, lest Shiro manage to somehow see it. Despite being one of the aforementioned limited friends, he still didn't want the man knowing what he was getting up to. After careful consideration, he'd decided to attend the masquerade that Allura was hosting at the ballet studio where she worked.

Allura was a post-grad student who constantly carried herself with a level of grace most couldn't fathom. Keith had never really felt like he was on the same level as her, what with her ability to balance her dual dancing and political science majors, as well as keeping up with an admirable social life.

She somehow managed to bridge the gap between groups practically seamlessly. It was almost as if she knew precisely how to blend into each circle. And people loved her.

Keith was no different. Allura was another of his limited friends, even if she felt out of his league. She was close to Shiro, so he wound up seeing her with more frequency than most people.

She'd invited practically the entire campus to attend, and it was shaping up to be the biggest party of the year. Needless to say, it would be the best place to let loose, and to elude as many people in plain sight as he could. He bet he could sneak by even Allura, and maybe Shiro if he didn't talk to him.

That said, he had to wait out the rest of the school day. Halloween was on a Friday, blessed be. But they still had to make it through their day classes. And it seemed like, as time wore on, people got more and more impatient.

His last class of the day was debate. Which, usually was actually one of his favorite subjects. Sadly, this particular year, he'd had the misfortune of not only sharing the same class, but winding up partnered with one Lance McCain.

Keith had vaguely known that Lance was a person that existed. They had some overlapping acquaintances, namely Allura and Shiro. They'd been going to the same university for an equal amount of time, and Keith had the suspicion that he might have a memory or two of seeing the other even in high school.

But he'd never really paid Lance much mind. So it was a bit baffling when, on the first day of their shared debate class, the guy had devoted every ounce of his being into out-debating Keith. And, every class after that, it seemed that he only ever targeted Keith, like, ever. Apparently he seemed to think they were rivals of some sort, though Keith couldn't recall agreeing to such terms.

Nor could he fathom why the guy gave a flying fuck about him. He couldn't even remember interacting with him properly, so it was beyond him what bone Lance had to pick. Unable to really do anything about it, though, he was forced to just deal with it.

They weren't even really doing anything this period, just listening to the professor lecturing about a topic they'd be working on the next week. But Lance somehow found a way to antagonize him, even through that. Any time Keith ventured to look anywhere but at his desk or the wall, he was faced with a fierce glare.

He met it a few times, sizing up the challenge, but Lance never backed down, and he'd just wind up sighing and trying to return his attention to the professor. It was pointless, tedious, and definitely awkward. But some part of him couldn't seem to help wanting to fight back a little, even if he couldn't understand why.

The professor, as class drew to an end, urged them to talk to their debate partners and decide which side each would argue so they could contemplate their stance beforehand. (As if he really believed anyone was going to be thinking about debate over Halloween weekend.)

Keith sighed, resolved to get the conversation with his 'rival' over as quickly and painlessly as possible. He just wanted to start getting ready for the party.

Lance, as per usual, didn't want to let him get a word in edgewise.

"I want to be Spain." He said, before Keith had even managed to fully sigh in preparation. He grit his teeth, forcing the anger already boiling for no real reason to simmer down.

"You got first pick last time." He pointed out. But reasoning never worked with Lance.

"But I'm _actually_ from a Spanish speaking country." Lance retorted, as if that was valid. Was it valid? It seemed a petty argument, but, honestly, Keith was tired of escalating situations with Lance. He just wanted to go home, get dressed, and celebrate one of the only holidays he enjoyed.

"You know what? Fine. Whatever. You can be Spain." He agreed, shoving his laptop into his bag and shouldering it.

Lance seemed surprised he'd won so easily. For a second, Keith thought he might try to switch again, just out of spite, but he apparently managed to swallow down his terrible personality, for once.

"Um… Okay. Well, uh…" He was at a loss. It was beautiful. Maybe Keith should give up more often? No, that didn't suit him.

"Happy Halloween, Lance. See you next week." He offered, heading for the door before the other could get his head back on. Perhaps he was in a bit of a good mood? There was no other way to explain how well he'd handled his annoying classmate.

With that out of the way, he was free to rush home, drawing the hidden costume out from the depths of his wardrobe and laying it out on his bed. He'd always liked to add his own touches to costumes, even if he wasn't great at sewing. He'd decided, since they were doing the masquerade thing and it was supposed to be a half-mask, that he'd go with a cat.

Uninspired, he knew. The only thing that really differentiated him from the stereotypical sexy-kitten thing was a scarf he'd sewn glowy stars and a pair of cat ears into, which was long and wide enough that he could wrap it over the crown of his head, and his neck a few times, leaving just his bangs poking out. He didn't want to risk being recognized, and the scarf took care of covering what little the mask left exposed.

Was there any real coherency to his costume? Nope. Was he going to get to dance with a lot of cute boys because of it? Yep. Guys really liked cats, for whatever reason. And he could play up the flirting with the confidence of being able to hide in his scarf.

But before any of that, he wanted a shower. And a meal. It wasn't good to party on an empty stomach. And so, bowl of cereal in hand (because Keith considered himself an adult, and adults could eat cereal whenever the fuck they wanted to) he meandered through his house, excited energy making it hard to sit still.

When that, and his shower, were out of the way, he dressed himself up to the neck, leaving the scarf and the mask for later while he worked on doing something with his hair and face. It didn't matter that most of it was obscured, he still liked to be the full package.

So he brushed his hair up into a higher ponytail than he'd usually sport, finding the oldest bottle of hairspray in the world (which he used pretty much exclusively for Halloween) and locking it in place.

Maybe someone who was less comfortable with their gender identity would be embarrassed about being so good with makeup. But, as he lined his eyes flawlessly in that perfect cat shape, he couldn't find it in him to be ashamed. It never hurt to look good, regardless of gender.

He blackened his nose, too, but waited on the black lipstick after he glanced at his phone for the time. It was a little early, and he frowned as he realized he'd have to think of something to do for a bit.

Maybe pre-gaming wasn't a bad idea. It'd ease him out of his awkwardness early on, so he could spend more time letting loose. Plus it'd help him get rid of the six pack that had been haunting his fridge for much too long. Shiro had started commenting on it.

And that's how he found himself on his futon with a beer watching some god-awful Halloween special. It was a juxtaposition, watching a cartoon clearly meant for children and sipping at alcohol, but it was the sort of thing Keith was secretly about.

He'd only managed two by the time the special was over and he deemed it late enough that there would be a crowd at the studio to get lost in. So he tossed the bottles, smeared on the black lipstick he'd neglected before, and slid his phone into the pocket of the jeans that were definitely way too tight.

God bless Halloween.

The dance studio wasn't far from where he lived. He'd picked an apartment rather central to almost anything worth venturing to in town. It was lucky, seeing as he hadn't been bothered to get a car. Shiro had donated a bike to him that he took occasionally, if he had to cover more distance, but generally he walked most places.

The stars sewn into his scarf glowed as he traveled between streetlights, making him smile behind the fabric. They reminded him of the ones he'd had on his ceiling since he'd moved into his apartment. Shiro had recalled him liking the ones that had been in his room when his family had been fostering Keith, so he'd casually come in and put them up one day, much to Keith's surprise when he got ready for bed that night.

It took him about twenty minutes to make it, and he could already hear some of the music from inside as soon as he'd reached the front doors. Familiar enough with the studio to be comfortable letting himself in, he ducked the girls at the front who seemed to be stationed there for the soul purpose of directing people down the hall.

He'd seen them in a couple of Allura's classes, so he didn't want to talk to them.

Tugging the scarf up just a little higher, he ventured towards the music, avoiding people in the hall. People out there were usually either escaping the party or up to absolutely no good, and that wasn't what he was looking for.

When he pushed open the door to the recital hall, the volume of the music increased about twenty fold. He could feel the bass thrumming his bones, but knew that he wouldn't mind after another beer or so. And it didn't take him much time, skirting around the fringes of the definitely massive crowd, to find a table laden with alcohol.

Noticing a bottle of rum, he decided to skid the beer, and he grabbed a solo cup from the one of, like, twenty packages that'd been brought, filling it half with the liquor, then dumping in coke almost to the top.

Drink in hand, he dodged his way over to the stage, plopping down with the wallflowers to sip for a bit, till he could rekindle his buzz. It also gave him an opportunity to scan the crowd. Because there were lots of attractive boys, but they wouldn't all be cat people.

He also had to pass judgments without a face to go on, for the most part. Few people had missed the masquerade memo, so there were few faces that weren't at least half-hidden. Maybe that was part of the fun, though. All he really needed was someone who could swing their hips just right.

By the time he killed his drink, he'd picked out a couple of victims, and he could feel the eyes of the wallflowers on him as he ditched his cup and sauntered into the mass of people taking up most of the room.

First up was a guy dressed as a vampire. Keith picked him first because he'd just been left in the dust by the witch he had tried to persuade into dancing. Chances were he'd be feeling a little embarrassed, so he'd probably be happy for a quick distraction.

He'd guessed right, because not five seconds later there were hands on his hips, holding on for dear life as Keith swung them from side to side, finding the beat for a moment before trying anything too complicated. He could tell the guy had no idea whether he was dancing with girl or a boy, and that made him feel a little powerful.

A few songs played before Keith decided it was time to move on, and he winked as he extracted the hands from his waist, where they'd been smoothing up and down.

It was nothing like how he usually behaved. While not shy, he never advertised himself as flirtatious or forward. That's what made it fun, though. And the way the guy sort of reached for him wistfully did wonders to boost his confidence.

But he also had a rule that he had to follow every year; He couldn't spend too much time with any one person. That was risky.

And so he moved on, weaving through people until he found another of the boys he'd singled out. This one had dressed as a pirate, and was a candidate because he looked a bit nervous. Keith had watched him trail several people with his eyes, but he hadn't worked up the nerve to ask any of them to dance, and he was just sort of swaying by himself, glancing around for anyone that didn't seem preoccupied with someone else.

He seemed a bit surprised when Keith slid into his space, but not put off. He had to coax him into it, but soon he had arms around his shoulders. The dancing wasn't as good as the first round, but he found it sort of charming, the nervousness with which his partner moved, unsure of where to put his hands or his feet, but obviously pleased to have the opportunity at all.

Keith felt a little bad when he waved goodbye, not oblivious to the frown that appeared under the mask the guy was wearing. But rules are rules. Maybe they'd meet again next year.

A decent playlist's worth of dancing under his belt, he opted for another drink. And when that was gone, he disappeared upstairs to the bathroom. He figured the ones downstairs would be littered with partygoers, but no one who didn't know the studio would think to explore the upper floor. Well, he hoped, anyway.

When he went in, he had to turn the lights on, so he felt confident that it was empty. Androgyny was both a blessing and a curse; He could get away with a lot more, except in the bathroom. Then it could be dangerous. Some guys were real assholes, and would love to knock him against a wall for those skinny jeans and eyeliner.

The privacy was a nice reprieve from the music still ringing in his ears. Even upstairs, he could feel the vibrations from the bass. He did his business, and took a moment to reapply his lipstick, since it'd faded just a bit from drinking. It was lucky he only had to fix the middle, where his lips parted, because his hands weren't quite as steady this time, and he'd likely have made a mess around the edges.

Granted, with the scarf pulled up it hardly mattered. And, as he turned the lights out again, he found himself smiling at the glow of the stars. He had a good buzz going, and he always loved stars when he was inebriated. It might be nice to stargaze, if it wasn't so chilly out.

Instead, he meandered back into the party. He caught sight of a figure, which was unmistakably Allura (thanks to that mane of hair), dancing with another masked figure that was equally familiar. Keith smirked, knowing he was going to tease Shiro about it later. He was baffled as to why they weren't officially dating. Everyone thought they were anyways.

He slipped back into the crowd hastily, not wanting to risk them noticing him. If they saw him any closer than from a distance, Shiro would probably realize who he was.

This time, he had to locate a partner in the throes of it all. It was a little harder than scanning from afar, but he'd make do. This time he found someone that he normally wouldn't have approached with a ten foot pole; He was tall, built, and likely a jock. Exactly the sort of person that would shove him in the hall for no particular reason.

But his buzz and his costume gave him the confidence to saunter over, standing before him and waiting for an appraisal. He'd dressed, rather lazily, as a zombie, and hadn't bothered with a mask. And Keith didn't think he was _particularly_ attractive, about average, but that wasn't the point. It was the thrill of getting away with something he'd normally never dare.

And it seemed he'd passed inspection, for the taller guy twisted a finger in his belt loop, tugging him closer.

"Pretty kitty." He mumbled, close to Keith's ear. It made him roll his eyes. Hard. But oh well, he'd let him think he was smooth or whatever. It didn't matter, he had a dance partner.

He let the other lead, eventually getting spun around and pulled to the guy's chest. It was more disorienting than he liked to admit, turning so fast like that. He tried to take it in stride, though, only stilling for a moment before tuning back into the music and finding his rhythm again.

The guy, who was now behind him, ran his hands up and down his ribs and sides, occasionally interrupting his flow to direct the sway of his hips. As his touch sank lower, he closed in, his breath warming the back of Keith's neck, even through the scarf. He felt the other's pelvis bump into his ass, but was too busy trying to drag the wandering hands back up to his waist to consider that.

But, even when he managed to get the hands above his hips, and tried to take a step forward for some space, the guy just held him back, dragging his hand down Keith's thigh while he ground into him from behind.

Nearly stumbling, thrown off by the guy's motions, he twisted to glare.

"Hey, chill out." He hissed. It fell on deaf ears, though, and he felt fingers edging way too close to the front of his pants. "Dude, fuck off!" He insisted, wriggling till he could turn around.

"What's the matter, kitten?" The guy slurred a bit, and Keith realized he was maybe in over his head.

"I said stop." He reiterated, trying to push away. Unfortunately, the bulky build worked in the other's favor, and he wasn't having much luck getting more than a foot away before he was forced back.

"Seriously, I'm done!" He warned, voice rising a bit. A few people nearby were starting to glance their way, likely trying to decide how much the situation was going escalate.

"Aww, come on babe-" The guy began, rubbing his hands over Keith's waist again, as if that might appease him.

"No, fuck off!" He growled, shoving the other as hard as he could.

Finally, he had some space to breathe as the guy stumbled back a few feet, knocking into a couple of annoyed partygoers. Keith tried to back into the crowd, hoping to disappear before his aggressor could get his wits about him enough to get mad.

Unfortunately, he had apparently decent reflexes, for it seemed Keith hadn't even managed two steps before he was being dragged back, this time the grip on his hips tight enough to hurt a little.

"That wasn't very nice, kitty."

Keith groaned, struggling again to get away. He was to the point that he was wishing the people around them would intervene, though no one was making any move to. Wasn't it obvious that Keith wasn't into this? Would they just watch as he was forced to do… Whatever this asshole wanted him to?

"Let go of me!" He shouted, not caring if he was being loud anymore. Was the guy seriously just going to ignore him? "What the fuck? Get off!"

He managed to get loose again, though just barely, and he really did stumble this time, wincing as his knees hit the floor. He regretted drinking so much, knowing it took him too much time to get back to his feet. His heart raced as he anticipated getting trapped again.

It didn't matter, though, for it seemed someone had finally decided to come to his rescue.

"Hey man, back off."

The voice was sort of familiar, but Keith couldn't quite place why. When he turned to see the new developments, he found that someone had stood themselves between him and the asshole.

"He said he wasn't into it." He pointed out, voice even and firm.

It was almost laughable; The new guy was skinny as a rail, and barely taller than the one he was facing off against. But Keith was grateful, taking a deep breath he didn't realize that he'd been unable to before.

At first, the jock he'd been dancing with seemed confused, eyes darting to look Keith up and down, like he was seeing him for the first time. It dawned on him that the asshole had probably assumed he was a girl. Hadn't his voice given him away? Maybe he was _that_ drunk. He seemed appalled, when he realized, though.

The two squared off for a moment, not moving. But, apparently the newcomer had enough bite in his glare to get the asshole to storm off in the other direction without further confrontation. Everyone in the general vicinity watched him go, then stared at Keith for a moment when he disappeared from sight. Eventually, though, when they realized there wouldn't be any more drama, they returned to their own business.

With that settled, the newcomer turned to Keith. His face, of course, was half obscured by a mask. He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but Keith thought his costume might be a sugar skull? He really hoped the guy was actually _from_ Mexico, if that was the case.

Regardless, the half of his face that wasn't covered up (though it was painted) was smiling.

"You alright?" He wondered, looking Keith up and down. "That couldn't have been fun."

"No shit." Keith blurted before he could stop himself. "S-sorry. Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks." He offered, awkwardly pausing before offering his hand for a shake. Was that appropriate? Shit, all of his alcohol-induced social grace had vanished.

His rescuer just laughed, taking his hand. He started to lean down, and Keith thought he was going to be really over the top and kiss the back of his hand, but he seemed to think better on it, straightening out again.

"Yeah. Sorry it took me so long to notice he was being so shitty."

Keith shrugged, rubbing his arm awkwardly. He felt like he needed to keep talking, all things considered. The guy had kind of just saved his neck. But words weren't his strong suit. Like, ever.

Before it got too bad, he took a step closer, biting his lip.

"Do you, uh, wanna dance?" He tried. "My last partner kind of…" He trailed, gesturing vaguely in the direction his previous attempt had stomped off in.

The new guy grinned, nodding.

That was a relief. Dancing Keith could do. Much better than talking.

Still, he took it a little slower, considering what had just happened. He wouldn't really be making a good case for himself if he just started grinding away. Instead, he planted his hands on boney shoulders, moving in a bit closer.

He felt the hesitation as the guy considered where to put his own, and he glanced up before placing them on Keith's hips.

"This okay?" He asked, receiving a nod.

It took a moment for them to get into it, but soon Keith let the music take him again, and began rolling his hips lazily, waiting till the other was moving along before stepping his game up.

To be honest, once he found his comfort zone, his partner proved to be the best of the night. He wasn't unsure of what to do with his feet, or his hips. In fact, a couple of his moves put Keith's to shame. It was a good change of pace, and Keith found himself intrigued. He wasn't as tempted to sashay away for someone else.

"You're a good dancer." He chuckled. The guy grinned.

"Gracias." He replied, the Spanish sounding a bit more natural coming from him than most people Keith had heard using it casually like that.

"Are you from Mexico?" He ventured, looking the costume up and down again.

"Cuban, actually." The other said with a laugh. "In my defense, we _do_ have a holiday similar to Dia de los Muertos, but it's admittedly less extravagant. Mostly just taking flowers to the dead. But I think it's a little more okay for me to wear it than, say, her-" He reasoned, pointing to a girl with sugar skull makeup. And while it was pretty, Keith could tell it wasn't part of her heritage.

"That's Ashleigh Bronger. She's in my debate class, and definitely white as hell." He whispered, voice a bit conspiratorial. "But whatever. It doesn't really bother me that much. Don't tell the internet."

Keith laughed, but it was a little weak. Ashleigh Bronger was in _his_ debate class, too. That meant he had a class with this guy, which meant he maybe wasn't being careful enough. He supposed it explained why he'd sort of recognized the voice, but he still couldn't place it.

Asking for the other's identity would mean he'd have to admit to his own, though, so he tried to put it from his mind and just enjoy the attention he was getting.

"I like your scarf… Hood… Thing, by the way." The guy said, one of his hands catching the end of it to examine the stars a bit closer. "The stars are cool as hell." He grinned.

Keith returned the expression, letting the other play with it for a moment.

"Thanks. I felt sort of lame just wearing regular clothes mostly, but I didn't really have the energy to do much more." He admitted. "I usually work a little harder on my costumes, but I really just came to, like, dance. You know?"

He hadn't spoken so much to anyone in, well, ever. Shiro aside, he rarely held conversations that lasted longer than a few words on his part. But apparently all it took was a little bit of flattery to have him chattering. Some part of him was embarrassed, but another part of him liked the way it made his partner lean in to hear him.

The guy laughed, not backing up even though Keith wasn't saying anything else.

"I noticed. You might wanna take a bit more care with who you wiggle your hips at, though." He warned. Keith huffed at that, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know what the hell his problem is. I told him to back off, like, five times. It's scary to think what he's probably capable of." He frowned.

The other guy nodded, finally taking a step away as the music stopped.

"Yeah, I hope he calls it a night soon. But I, on the other hand, am only getting started. You wanna get a drink?"

Keith hesitated; He'd already broken several rules by talking with the guy for so long. Hanging out beyond dancing was _definitely_ off limits. But he found himself following anyway, plucking another clean cup from the stacks and letting the other pour him some whiskey.

He hated whiskey.

And yet, a few minutes later, he was almost done with it. He and his partner had found a section of wall to lean against, chatting while they sipped, people-watching and making bad jokes.

This was dangerous. The longer they talked, the more Keith felt like he knew the stranger more closely than he'd first realized. He was sure, any moment, he was going to recall a name, a face.

Not only that, but the more they talked, the more he found himself shamelessly flirting. That, of course, was allowed, to a point. But he wasn't trying to seduce anyone, as far as he knew. His mouth seemed to disagree, though, for he found himself saying things that would normally make him blush something fierce. Whiskey did that to him.

When there wasn't anything left in his cup, he was coaxed back into dancing. It was a bit looser, now, with fresh alcohol helping him forget the aggressive encounter he'd recently escaped.

The other, too, seemed to have new confidence, pulling Keith back by the hips, holding him close as they matched the thrum of the bass. He was obviously taking some extra care, probably not wanting to come off similarly to the jock he'd scared off earlier. But, when his leg ventured between Keith's it was met with no resistance.

Grinding had never particularly been his strong suit; He was a little on the shorter side when compared to other guys, which made it a little hard to balance while hiking his ass up high enough. Beyond that, he wasn't usually comfortable with such sexual moves, considering the only time he ever danced like that was when he was disguised. It was one thing to play around with someone, but a totally different thing to lead them on.

But it seemed that the other was pretty intuitive, for he kept Keith steady with a firm grip, rolling his hips slowly at first to help Keith ease into it. Obviously he didn't care that he was dancing with a guy, which helped Keith have the confidence to mimic the motion.

"Do you, like, dance here? You're pretty good." The guy asked, voice soft but close. It didn't freak him out like it did with the jock, though.

"Uh, sometimes. I hang out with the girl that's hosting this party, and sometimes she gets me to mess around in the studio if I'm hanging around here." He admitted. What could it hurt?

"You know Allura?"

They both paused a second, Keith glancing over his shoulder to find the other waiting to catch his eye.

"Uh, yeah. You too?" He guessed.

The guy nodded, but got his pelvis moving again.

"Small world, I guess. Do you know Shiro, too?"

Keith blinked, trying not to panic as he learned that this guy was maybe _way_ closer to home than was safe.

"Y-Yeah. He's my closest friend, actually." He confessed. But why? He was only giving more clues to his identity. Why was he being so careless?

"Huh. I didn't think he really hung out with anyone but Allura and me and my friends. I wonder if he's talked about you?" The guy mused. Dangerous.

"He, uh, doesn't talk about personal stuff much." Keith said quickly.

"Yeah, true that."

He sighed, hoping that had been enough to divert the other's attention. Just in case, though, he leaned back, looping his arms over his own head, and around the other guy's neck. He felt more than heard the hum this earned him, and the hands on his hips tightened a bit, swaying them from side to side in synch with his own.

They danced a couple more songs, and Keith was starting to wonder what time it must be. It seemed like he'd heard every possible popular dancey song at least twice by then. But he found it kind of difficult to imagine saying goodbye. He'd long surpassed the time he allotted to a single partner, but he couldn't find it in him to care anymore.

But everything came crashing down around him when someone, likely a friend of his, stumbled over and grabbed the other's shoulder.

"Lance, dude, it's like two in the morning!"

Keith froze, a lot of things clicking. The familiar voice, demeanor, and vibe. The Spanish. The overlapping group of friends.

Lance, oblivious to the dilemma, simply glanced at his friend, hands still firmly planted on Keith's hips.

"Hunk, dude, can't you see I'm a little busy?" He shot back, nodding at Keith vaguely.

Keith lurched forward, panic rising fresh in his chest.

"N-No, he's right. It's late. We should-"

Lance frowned, or maybe it would be better classified as a pout.

"Aww, come on, it's only two! On Halloween! Not even the witching hour!" He pointed out.

It made Keith's head spin. How could this be the same Lance McClain that hated him for absolutely _no_ reason? The same Lance McClain who constantly bickered with him, badgered him until he lost his cool? The same Lance McClain that made his head hurt on the best days, and his blood boil on the worst of days?

How had he become this charming, flirtatious… Kind person?

And how fast would he flip back when he realized who Keith was?

He wanted to run, but he couldn't get his legs to cooperate. He just sort of stood there in a daze, staring at the guy who was, very obviously now, Lance. Why had it taken him so long to realize? And how had Lance failed just as epically at identifying him?

Masks were incredible.

"I… I don't think it's a good idea." He muttered, finally managing another step back. But Lance just took one closer, pout only growing in intensity.

"But I still wanna dance." He argued, petulantly. "And I'm not tired yet. Are you?" He wondered.

Keith swallowed. Truth be told, if he'd remained oblivious to Lance's identity, he likely would have stayed with him well into the morning. But now that he knew, all he could imagine was his mask falling off, and the look of surprise, then anger as Lance recognized him.

"Yeah, I, uh, should get going." Keith insisted, backing up some more. Lance continued his pursuit, though.

"Are you alright? You're acting way more nervous than, like, two seconds ago. And I was literally dry humping your ass two seconds ago, so I feel like this is kinda backwards." He pointed out. His friend seemed to have given up already, his huge shoulders making him stand out against the sea of people as he crossed to the other side of the room.

Again, he swallowed, his saliva seeming thick all of a sudden as he tried to think of excuses. They all sounded so suspicious, though, even in his mind.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just, you know. Tired." He finished lamely.

Lance hesitated a moment, and everything seemed still and silent, despite the ever-present thump of the music and the swarm of people around them. Then he grabbed Keith's hand, dragging him towards the door.

"H-Hey!" Keith yelped, indignant. But Lance didn't listen, just pushing through people to get to the exit. Once they'd emerged, he led the way down the hall a little, till the music wasn't so loud that they had to shout to hear each other.

They were both quiet for a time, just sort of dodging eye contact. Keith didn't know why he'd been brought out here, and Lance wasn't saying anything. But he figured it was coming, whatever it was.

Sure enough, Lance sucked in a breath.

"Okay, look." He began, scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. "I really liked dancing with you."

Keith nodded slowly. This sounded like it was going to be kind of… Serious. Was it too late to run?

"I… I really like you." He added, voice going sheepish for a moment. Keith had never heard him sound that way. And while it made his face flush, he knew that this sweetness wouldn't last when Lance figured things out.

"Lance-" Keith breathed, frowning before getting his voice in check. "Trust me, you don't want to do this-"

The taller wasn't having any of that, though, continuing despite the interruption.

"No, I do. I… I guess it was a little presumptuous of me, but I was gonna ask you to, well, come home with me." He admitted, the toe of his shoe tapping against the floor, as if he couldn't stay still.

It got sort of hard to breathe as Keith chewed that over, knowing what that meant.

"And like, I know that I can't speak for you or anything, but I thought you were kinda, you know… Into me too?" He tried, making Keith wince.

He wasn't wrong. Even now, knowing who Lance was, Keith couldn't find it in him to regret spending so much of his night with the other guy. He'd had a good time hanging out with his usually annoying debate partner.

But he knew Lance couldn't just ignore his identity. His rivalry, or whatever it was, ran inexplicably deep.

"Lance." He tried again. "Seriously, you don't understand what you're doing. And I don't want to mess this up, cause it's been a pretty awesome night. But if you knew who I am-" He trailed, sighing.

Lance's head cocked to the side, like a fucking puppy. Why was that endearing?

"Do I know you?" He inquired, eyes narrowing with new consideration.

Keith sighed, some part of him knowing that Lance probably wouldn't give up until he knew, now. If there was one thing he knew about Lance, other than how ridiculous he could be, it was that he was persistent.

"Just… I tried to warn you." He offered, pulling the scarf down so he could undo the knot of his mask. It took him a good couple seconds; He'd tied it kind of dumbly, to make sure it stayed on.

When it finally came loose, he let it fall into his hands, blinking a couple times before letting himself look up, to gauge Lance's reaction.

There wasn't much, at first. It seemed he was a little slow on the uptake, because he just sort of stared for what felt like minutes. Then there was surprise, then anger, and confusion, then more anger, and maybe a little hesitation.

"I-" He muttered, not getting any further than that before clamping his mouth shut.

This went on for too long, and then Lance just sort of collapsed onto the stairs, dragging his mask off and revealing the rest of his face. He was so much more recognizable.

"Why did it have to be _you_?" He lamented, eyes shut tight, as if not looking would make the whole situation disappear. Keith huffed, hesitating a moment before sitting next to him. He left space, of course.

"Fate's a bitch." He offered, as if that was a real explanation.

They were silent again, just sitting like that with the music drifting their way. Keith just felt sort of drained, but Lance seemed contemplative as he melted into the stairs.

"Fuuuck." He groaned after yet another chunk of time had passed. "I can't believe I just admitted to wanting to fuck you."

Keith snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes.

"Dude, I tried to tell you to stop." He pointed out. Lance shot him a dirty look.

"How long have you known who I am?" He demanded. Keith shrugged, leaning back a bit. It was kind of surreal to be having a real conversation with Lance, no shouting involved. Yet.

"Just since your friend came up. When he said your name it clicked." He explained. "I thought you were sort of familiar, though. Granted, you're usually a fucking douchebag to me, so you can't blame me for not putting it together at first."

Lance winced, sitting up a bit.

"Hey, you're an ass too!" He accused.

Keith gave him a witheringly deadpan look, raising a brow.

"Lance, I didn't even know who you were until the beginning of the semester, when you decided to literally _shout at me_ about whether the death penalty was ethical or not." He reminded. "A point that I was _assigned_ to debate. I hardly think _I'm_ the asshole in this scenario."

With a frown, the brunette considered this.

"And, before you hurt yourself trying to come up with an example, I have never started anything with you. I don't even understand what your problem with me is. What did I do to you?"

He never thought he'd get a chance to ask, but here they were. It had to be close to three in the morning at that point, and here he was, cross-legged on the stairs of the dance studio with Lance McClain at his side, contemplating the finer intricacies of their 'rivalry.'

It took Lance a while to come up with a reply, and he seemed to be kind of embarrassed as he spoke.

"You… I mean…" He paused, scowling. "You've just always done better than me, okay? I'm not used to that. I guess it, you know, gets to me."

Keith was kind of surprised to hear that. It was petty, but very honest.

"…Seriously?" He demanded, brows furrowing. "All of this-" he gestured between them "-because you think I'm better at debating than you?"

It was obvious that Lance recognized how pathetic it sounded when said aloud. He looked like he was about to combust with shame.

"Fuck off! I'm used to being the top of my class." He grumbled.

It put things in a new perspective. It was such a childish reason. It was such a petty thing that kept them from being civil with each other. And it wasn't even true; Lance had definitely won several of their arguments. There had to be more to it than that.

The brunette seemed to realize that, too. And his face only got redder.

"Okay. And, like, maybe you make me feel really gay and stuff, and I don't know how to deal with that." He blurted, almost too quickly for Keith to catch it.

Wow.

"Lance." He sighed, shaking his head. Unbelievable. "That's probably the most pathetic thing I've ever heard." He decided.

Lance squawked in outrage, voice a bit higher than Keith would have thought it could go.

"See! You're an asshole too!" He argued. And, well, Keith couldn't deny it. He _had_ just called him pathetic.

"I've never… I mean, I've known I was bi for a while, but I never actually had feelings for a guy." Lance admitted, hiding in his arms. Keith glanced his way, hating that he found it kind of endearing. God, this was bad.

"And I guess I have some internalized homophobia or whatever, because it kind of freaked me out. Because fucking a guy and catching feelings for a guy are totally different, and apparently the only way I can deal with that is making an ass of myself." He concluded, making himself very small.

Keith sighed, not sure what to do with all of this information. It was kind of nice to have an explanation for all of Lance's behavior. But he also had to deal with this apparent admission of _feelings_. And he'd never had to deal with a confession before. Was that what this was? Or was he just oversharing?

Lance finally chanced a glance over his arms, looking shy, unlike himself.

"Sorry. I guess I just didn't see the point of keeping it to myself, after everything that happened tonight. I think it's pretty obvious that I think you're attractive and stuff. And, like, it was actually pretty cool spending time with you when I didn't know who you were. Like, fuck. It was totally different."

Keith nodded, looking for something to busy his hands with. He eventually settled on messing with the stars on his scarf, pushing the points into his fingers till they hurt a little.

"But I, like, don't know how to proceed." He admitted, hugging his knees. Keith could relate.

They fell silent once more, Keith playing with his scarf and Lance staring straight ahead. It was painfully awkward, but neither one seemed able to move. It was several seconds before Lance couldn't take it, patience losing out as he made a noise in his throat.

"Um, could I, uh, kiss you?"

Keith's head snapped his direction, mouth agape.

"What?" He demanded, not sure what he was meant to think. In fact, he couldn't think. Was this a joke?

Lance shrunk back a little, but shrugged, as if it wasn't the most bizarre thing to ever come out of his mouth.

"I just… I figured it might help me sort things out. I'm kinda confused about how I feel right now." He confessed.

Keith tried to think it over. Kiss Lance? An hour ago, with their masks still in place, he might not have hesitated. But now? With Lance? It wasn't something he'd ever imagined.

The thought didn't put him off, though.

Maybe it wouldn't be bad. Kissing sounded better than arguing.

"…Fuck. Alright." He agreed, crossing his arms.

It was obvious that Lance hadn't expected that answer, for he initially looked dejected. But when he _did_ process the words, he perked up like a goddamn puppy.

"Seriously?" He asked, his disbelief clear.

Keith just huffed, scooting closer. That was, apparently, enough for Lance, for suddenly he was lurching forward, and Keith didn't even have time to react before he felt the other's lips on his.

It was decidedly weird. He'd kissed a couple of people, but no one like Lance. Their history was fresh in his mind, and it was hard not to think about the animosity between them.

But it was also pretty nice. Lance was a shockingly good kisser, after his initial hesitance. His hand came up to cradle the back of Keith's head, the other looping around his back to pull him closer so he could prolong it. Keith had expected maybe a peck, an awkward, chaste meeting of lips before they both shoved each other away in disgust.

Instead, he got soft but persistent pressure, Lance drawing him near, holding him so he couldn't shy away. He got a tongue pressing at his lips, licking away some of the black there before Keith was letting them part, for whatever reason.

He'd only ever made out one time, and it had been horrifically uncomfortable. He tried to block it out, in fact, and didn't do it with anyone again, even if he slept with them. But Lance wasn't as sloppy as he would have thought. It felt pretty nice, actually.

God, was he really thinking that? Was he really enjoying making out with Lance McClain?

Fuck. Yeah he was.

When Lance pulled away, he was breathing a little hard, his cheeks pink. His eyes were wide, and blue. Keith had never noticed that before. Blue just like the ocean in summer. Some of Keith's lipstick had smudged over the white of Lance's face paint.

"…So, that didn't help me figure shit out at all." He complained, frowning. "I think I'm just more confused."

Keith nodded numbly, fingers brushing against his lips. They were a little wet. Lance watched as if he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Uh… I want to do it again." He admitted, fingers twitching a moment before grabbing the back of Keith's neck and pulling him forward again. The shorter didn't argue, actually trying to participate in the kiss this time, instead of just letting Lance do whatever he wanted.

And when they parted, they came back. And suddenly there weren't really pauses in between, just gasping and more kissing. At least ten minutes passed, and Keith found himself pressed up against the rail of the stairs, Lance holding onto his hips and closing in more with each meeting of their lips.

"Fuck-" He hissed, kissing Keith hard. It made the shorter groan lowly, hands fisted in the front of Lance's costume. "Okay. I changed my mind. I still want you to come home with me." He announced.

Keith found the humility to blush, mouth open as he panted for breath. Still, he didn't say no. In fact, after a moment of racing thought, he stood, pulling Lance up with him by the wrist.

"I guarantee my place is closer." He offered, leading the way out into the chilly October air. He pulled his phone out, glancing at the time and the texts he'd received. Make that chilly _November_ air. It was four forty in the morning.

Lance finally processed what was going on, and he slid his wrist out of Keith's grip, grabbing his hand instead. It was surprisingly intimate, made him scrutinize their joined hands. He decided he didn't _dislike_ it, though, so he let it be.

"We're walking?" Lance questioned as they passed the parking lot. Keith nodded.

"It's just a few minutes away. Like, ten, at this pace." He promised. They were sort of power walking.

Lance laughed, and Keith's face flushed as he realized that it made his heart beat faster. He'd never really heard Lance laugh like that; big, loud, honest. It was sort of beautiful, and he hated that he thought so. He'd never bothered to notice the other's attractive qualities.

There were so many. He was already in too deep.

It felt like forever before he could see his apartment complex, and he struggled to fit the key into the lock in his excitement. He couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed about his things, though he assumed Lance was judging his possessions fiercely as they stumbled down the hallway to Keith's bedroom.

He closed the door, though he didn't really need to. He didn't have any roommates, it wasn't like anyone would walk in on them. But something about it felt final, like they couldn't back out of this now. Lance licked his lips.

"Nice stars." He commented. Keith just looked at him dumbly, taking much too long to remember that they dotted the ceiling. He was too thrown off to come up with a smart-ass remark.

"Oh. Uh. Shiro put them up." He explained, biting his lip. Lance considered this.

"Do you guys, like, fuck?" He wondered.

The thought of it made Keith cringe. He hadn't stayed with Shiro's family too awful long, but it had been long enough that he thought of Shiro as his older brother, sort of. The thought of sleeping with him was a bit appalling to him. But Lance didn't know that.

"Jealous?" He inquired, liking the way that Lance pouted in response.

"No." He growled, crossing his arms. Then, after a moment- "Okay, shit, maybe a little."

Keith quirked a brow. He hadn't actually expected the honesty. It threw him for a momentary loop, but he tried to roll with it.

"Well, we don't fuck." He promised. "He's basically family."

"Oh." Lance replied smartly. "Okay. Sorry."

Keith just snickered, unwrapping his scarf and tossing it at his dresser.

"Whatever. Are you just gonna keep trying to kill the mood, or-" He trailed, nodding at the bed. Lance got the hint, scuffling his feet a second before coming closer and reaching out for Keith's face again. He stared for a second, then leaned in and rekindled the kissing from earlier.

It took a bit, but soon they were practically glued together again, both making minimal efforts to shuffle towards the bed until they toppled onto it. Keith kicked his boots off, and Lance copied, following hungrily when Keith shimmied up the mattress.

"Jesus. I can't believe I'm doing this." He mumbled. Keith gave him a look, somewhere between annoyance and understanding. Because, to be real, he hadn't imagined something like this happening, either. That didn't mean he wanted to waste time thinking about it, though.

He snaked his arms around Lance's neck, tugging him down so he could kiss him more, bending his knees and using them to hold the other's hips against his. He was definitely getting hard, but so was Lance. No sense in being embarrassed about it.

Lance rolled his hips, and it managed to drag a moan out of Keith. Not that it got to be too loud with their lips pressed together so tightly. Lance just ate it up. Keith could feel him smirking, even as they made out.

Fingers trailed under his shirt, pausing a moment as if he was making sure that Keith wouldn't tell him to stop or something. But when he met no resistance, he pulled it off without further fanfare. Keith didn't even have time to think about being embarrassed; Lance was on him in a second, leaving his lips and sucking hickies into his neck instead.

"Fuck you!" Keith muttered, too breathless for it to have any bite. "I'm going to have to wear a scarf for like, a week." He complained.

Lance just grinned, sucking at his collarbone. Keith groaned.

"I hope you suck dick half as well." He grumbled.

Lance finally found it in him to blush a little, lips smacking as he pulled back a little, sitting up to pull his shirt off.

"You have no idea." He promised, shucking his pants too.

Keith sat up a bit to watch as Lance dragged his lips down the expanse of his chest, making sure to litter it with marks. Probably just to be spiteful. But it was hard to be angry as he drew closer to where Keith really wanted his attention.

After sucking one last hickey into Keith's hipbone, he started fiddling with his jeans, groaning low in his throat as he realized just how _tight_ they really were. Keith snickered, not doing much to help as Lance struggled to peel them down.

"How the fuck did you even get into these?" He demanded, losing his grip on the waistband as it caught on the thickest part of Keith's thighs.

"Jumping and determination." He offered, shrugging. "You'd be amazed what you can do when you want your ass to look good."

Lance scoffed, looking up to make sure Keith saw his eyes roll.

"Presumptuous of you to assume it looked good."

Keith smirked, finally wiggling his hips to help get the jeans off.

"Considering the boner you were sporting while we were dancing, I think it's a fair assumption." He shot back. Lance pulled that pouting face again, cheeks getting redder.

"I hate you." He whined.

"Less bitching, more sucking." Keith urged, shoving his pants as far down as he could reach, knowing Lance would be able to get the rest.

"Dude, are you seriously wearing-" Lance began, staring at the panties Keith had been sporting.

"Did you think I could fit boxers in those?" He wondered, nodding at the jeans that Lance had just tossed behind him. "They're women's pants, might as well go all the way." He reasoned.

Lance shook his head, hooking his thumbs under the elastic and playing with it for a moment before tugging them down. They looked a little ridiculous with his hard on straining inside, anyway.

"You are _so_ gay" He mused. Keith quirked a brow.

"True." He agreed, tangling a hand in Lance's hair and pushing him down a bit, trying to get him to shut up and get to work. Patience wasn't one of his best qualities, to say the least. Lance's talkative nature was sort of grating for that reason.

He seemed able to pick up on hints, though, for he busied himself with sizing up his competition. Keith wondered how many dicks he'd seen before. Lance carried himself as sort of promiscuous, but he also faltered sometimes when someone pursued one of his claims. Keith imagined he didn't get around as much as he'd like people to believe.

Still, he didn't seem perturbed, so he'd probably been with at least a guy or two. It was hard for Keith to imagine, as he'd always thought of Lance as sort of a womanizer. He'd flirt with pretty much anyone in a skirt. But then, he supposed he'd seen Lance flirting with a few guys, himself included, and just assumed he was joking.

Damn, stupid heteronormativity.

Keith put it, and pretty much everything, from his mind as Lance got to work, sinking down all the way in one go. His nose pressed into Keith's pubic bone, and the shorter's eyes went wide.

"Shit, Lance!" He gasped, fingers curling a little too tight in the other's hair. Lance probably would have grinned if his mouth wasn't occupied. He obviously knew what he was doing, hollowing his cheeks out as he pulled back up, not quite letting Keith fall from his mouth before bobbing back down.

"Uuhn-" Keith moaned, a bit embarrassed by how fast Lance was working him up. But, fuck, he could feel the head brushing the back of his throat, could feel Lance swallowing around him.

Lance busied his hands, one drawing patterns against a hipbone, the other trailing lower to tease the space between Keith's balls and ass. It made him shudder, legs falling open carelessly.

He'd never admit it, but Keith had never had a better blowjob in his life. It would only stroke Lance's ego. God was he good, though. The longer they went, the harder it got to keep himself still. But even when he lost it and carelessly thrust a couple of times, Lance took it like a champ. He didn't even choke.

"Fuuuuck." Keith hissed, taking Lance's fluttering eyelashes and relaxed expression as a go-ahead to fuck his mouth. Lance didn't hesitate to loosen his jaw, hauling Keith's leg up and over one of his shoulders so he could get even closer. "God, Lance, I'm gonna-" He trailed.

The brunette glanced up at him, still comfortable and confident. It was obvious he knew what Keith meant, and he didn't pull back, so Keith let himself come right down the other's throat.

Lance coughed just a little after he pulled back, but nothing spilled from his lips. Keith was, admittedly, a little impressed. He'd never say so, though, of course. And the sentiment was ruined when Lance clambered on top of him again, shoving their mouths together and giving Keith a taste of _exactly_ what he'd been up to.

Keith shoved him weakly, grimacing.

"Fucking gross, dude." He complained. Lance only laughed, kissing him again despite his protests. And Keith got over the taste, for the most part, letting Lance lick and suck at his mouth until he was content.

"Can I fuck you?" He murmured, voice a bit husky and fucked out. Keith snorted a laugh, brow raising.

"What if I wanna top?" He demanded. Lance pouted.

"Aww, come on! I just gave you awesome head." He argued. It made Keith roll his eyes, but he didn't really want to argue. He actually didn't mind taking it, he was just comfortable arguing with Lance for the sake of arguing. Without the usual bite behind it, the banter was even a little fun.

Instead of answering, he reached for the cabinet built into his desk, which was pushed up against his bed to serve as a bedside table, opening the little door and retrieving a condom and bottle of lube, handing them over to Lance.

With a triumphant grin, he shed his underwear, pausing a moment to stroke himself a couple times. Keith liked the way it sent shivers down his spine, but kept his hands to himself for the time being, just letting Lance do what he liked.

He grabbed the lube and opened it up, pulling one of Keith's knees back over his shoulder, pushing the other one to the side so he had more room to work. The afterglow that was still washing over him kept Keith from feeling too embarrassed, and he let himself relax as Lance poured some of the lube out and swirled his fingers in it.

"Ready?" He asked, waiting till he received a nod before he circled his finger around Keith's ass to spread the lube, dipping it in once he decided there was enough.

Keith sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to tense up. It had been a little while since he hooked up with someone, and his body wasn't quite accepting of the intrusion. He forced himself to keep relaxed, though, taking a few deep breaths.

Lance worked slowly, seeming to catch on that Keith would need a little extra time to adjust.

"Striking out lately?" He guessed. Keith huffed, shooting him a glare.

"I've been busy. With, you know, school? We just had midterms." He reminded, earning a groan.

"Dude, surefire way to kill a boner? Talking about midterms."

Keith laughed, and Lance took the opportunity to add another finger. It was easier, from there. Especially when he got to work finding Keith's prostate, fingering it mercilessly when he located it. Soon he was taking three fingers like a champ, moaning like a whore and struggling not to stroke his fresh erection.

"Alright, come on, that's enough." He urged, grabbing at Lance's hair again and hauling him up. "It's gotta be after five in the morning, let's get this going."

Lance seemed indignant, but let his fingers fall out, reaching for the condom and rolling it on rather hastily.

"You wanna stay on your back? Would it be better if you rolled over?" He asked, sitting back a bit to let Keith move if he wanted.

"No, this is fine." Keith assured, drawng his legs as close to his chest as he could; an invitation. Lance lined up without too much fanfare, rubbing the head against Keith's ass to spread some of the lube again. He glanced up, making sure to hold the other's gaze while he started pushing in.

Any time Keith's brows drew together in discomfort, Lance would halt. It was both infuriating and a little endearing, learning he was caring in bed. Keith, of course, could appreciate a rough fuck. But this, particularly coming from Lance, was an interesting change of pace. It contrasted his personality.

When they were finally hips-to-ass, Keith let out a breath, fingers releasing their grip on the sheets as he told himself to calm down again. Lance spared him a few moments to catch up, his thighs trembling a little with the effort of keeping still.

"Move-" Keith mumbled, not managing another word before Lance had pulled back and pushed back in rapidly. "Fuck!" He gasped.

"Too hard?" Lance asked, halting again. He was genuinely concerned, and Keith didn't like what that did to his heart.

"No, keep going." He demanded, rolling his own pelvis to get his point across.

Lance complied, snapping his hips forward again, setting a quick pace. Still, he kept an eye on Keith's reactions, changing his speed and angle till Keith was writhing for it. Once he'd figured out what made the other moan, he was relentless, holding the position and getting Keith to all but scream.

Would he hear from the neighbors? Did he care?

He couldn't really think, the only thing spilling from his lips being profanity and various mispronunciations of Lance's name. Maybe he would have been embarrassed if he wasn't getting the living daylights fucked out of him, but in the moment, he just wanted to hold Lance's hand and crash their lips together.

It would seem that Lance was an intuitive lover, for he craned himself up as much as he could, licking at the corner of Keith's mouth until he opened up so they could kiss again. Before he could stop himself, Keith found his hand twisted in Lance's hair again, holding him down so he didn't lose those lips again.

Lance panted into his mouth, breath hot and uneven. His thrusts were starting to lack rhythm as well, and Keith knew what that meant. But when he tried to snake a hand between them to stroke himself, Lance batted it away and took over the task himself.

Keith arched, the extra attention bringing him significantly closer to the brink. Lance slid his other hand under his back, holding him in that position and moaning into his mouth.

"I'm close-" He huffed, dragging his lips down Keith's throat, sucking more hickeys as he went.

"Yeah." Keith agreed, hugging Lance to him by the neck. "Don't stop, Lance." He husked, close to the other's ear.

He felt Lance come, then _heard_ him come, Spanish rolling of his tongue unbidden for a moment. Keith didn't understand a word of it, but it definitely set him off. It wasn't a second later he was coming hard into Lance's hand, swearing.

Lance just breathed into his shoulder a long moment, then pulled back carefully and slid out.

"Trash can?" He mumbled, voice deep and tired. Keith smiled, the expression looser than he usually permitted.

"Under the desk." He directed, pointing lazily. "There's tissue in the little cabinet." He added.

Lance discarded the condom, then wiped his hand, passing a tissue to the other so he could mop up his stomach.

"God, I think the sun's coming up." He observed, taking the dirtied paper and tossing it before laying down at Keith's side. "What time do you think it is? Like, five?"

Keith scoffed, shoving his arm under his pillow so that Lance could lay against his shoulder. It was… Intimate. But he liked the closeness. And how he didn't even have to explain his intentions, Lance assuming on his own.

"It's November, so more like seven." He corrected. Lance groaned at the thought, frowning deeply enough that Keith could feel it against his skin.

"Fuck. I don't wanna get up tomorrow… Today. Are you gonna kick me out in a few hours?" Lance bemoaned, fingers dancing along Keith's ribs again.

"I'm not the asshole here, you are." Keith pointed out, huffing as he grabbed Lance's hand to still it. Lance glanced up, blinking at him a few times, then he laughed.

"Dude, you've got my makeup smeared all over your face." He cackled. Keith tried to scowl, but it softened a bit with his exhaustion.

"You should see _your_ face. God, this shit is going to get all over my pillows." He complained, settling in despite his words.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna help you clean." Lance promised. Keith made a noise somewhere between a huff and a laugh.

"You're an ass."

"Happy Halloween." Lance replied, snickering.

**Author's Note:**

> I started Voltron thinking to myself: "Maybe I won't be shipping trash for once in my life."
> 
> Well, you can see how well that went for me. But I've made my peace with it. I really love this relationship, particularly because it's different than most of the others I write for. I tend to gravitate towards really sweet, cuddly, super loving couples.
> 
> And, of course, these two can be that way. But by default, they've got that rivalry that keeps them at each other's throats all the time. It was interesting getting to explore that a little!
> 
> Also I've been in a Halloween mood. So, you know.
> 
> Just a disclaimer, I came across a picture a while ago that had Keith and Lance in very similar outfits. I think Keith was a Witch in the picture, though? I can't find it again (I saw it before I had really sat down for more than one episode of Voltron, so I wasn't quite shipping yet) but I'm fessing up to being inspired by it. Hopefully it'll resurface!
> 
> Anyway, I always ramble. Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


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